The Week(s) From Hell

Well, not really. Things have been super awesome - they've just been super busy.

Oh, except the sicknesses. Both girls and hubby (and this morning my throat is hurting) are/have been sick. Nose running, head pounding, cough inducing, grump causing sick. Oh, and Shake'n'Bake threw up on my birthday.

During these past few weeks of sickness I have been packing everything I can get my grubby little paws on, in an effort to make moving day (and the days leading up to said day) much easier. I have purchased sooooooo many diapers and Easy Ups that I have a dangerous tower in my bathroom of unboxed diapers.

And yes, it is dangerous, it fell on my head the other day. *insert sad face*

As of yesterday, not only did I use my last box, but I also filled the toybox (soon to be the front hall chest), two baskets, one plastic bucket, one bag, and packed the PlayStation3 into its appropriate box filling the extra spaces with other living room items.

No more boxes. Finit. All done. Exhausted.

I've considered buying more diapers and Easy Ups, but even I have my limits, and I believe that having 10 sleeves of diapers and 8 sleeves of Easy Ups that I will have to move loose is it.

For the past 10 days or so (wayyyy too lazy to count right now) my awesome friends have been coming to my house and babysitting my rugrats for free so that Boyfriend and I can go and work our buns off (see: renovate) at the new house.

With Dad and Brother, we've scraped all of the old stucco off the ceilings, removed all of the trim from the house, pulled up two rooms worth of carpet, three rooms worth of tile, one hall worth of...plywood floor?, drywalled, taped, sanded, cleaned, wiped, primed, and painted. And we're not done.

We move in 5 days and as of right now, my goal is to have both bedrooms fully painted, carpeted, and trimmed. That'd be sweet.

Then we just live in the small area that is upstairs for a few weeks while the main floor gets finished (acutal finish time is greatly unknown: a few weeks is my hopeful guess) and then stick to the main and upper floors whilst the basement is polished.

Sometimes......
Picture from here.

Hiding In Plain Sight

Happy First Day Back To School!

Not for Shake'n'Bake this year...she'll be starting Junior Kindergarten next year (in a better neighbourhood: win!) although I'm sure I'll be prepared much much earlier than September.

We started our Christmas shopping in June this year. Yes, June. We were out picking up a few things before the girls' birthdays and found a couple of things for Christmas. Then we made another big trip this past weekend to grab some Christmas presents.

I normally love to Christmas shop early in the year. I hate being in the stores in December if I don't have to be...things are too hectic then and I tend to get anxious, angry, and twitchy. So I avoid it whenever possible. The real kicker this year is that we are going to be demolishing, building, repairing, etc. for the last two weeks in October; then moving at the end of October; then unpacking and such during November and I am worried that I may be too busy then to Christmas shop.

So, to calm my worries, we have begun our Christmas shopping (I've actually finished 2 people already...back in August!) and that I am just packing the gifts as I purchase them.

Victory.

I was quite smug with this decision up until this weekend when I purchased a particular gift that is bigger than any of the boxes/containers that I have available for packing.

I stressed about it for a couple of days, and then decided to try the trick that my parents used on us: hiding it in plain sight.

Now, Splat is still young enough that she didn't even blink an eye when we were putting these gifts into the cart. She doesn't associate 'in the cart' with 'this will become mine' yet, so we're okay there. But Shake'n'Bake is old enough to understand alllllll of that and much more. Out of desperation I have hidden this present in the pile of already packed boxes and riff raff, and I am just hoping that when we go to move it that she won't notice.


O_o


Yes, that's my plan.

Is anyone else excited for Christmas?!? ZOMG I am so excited. Christmas in ma noo hows! Ahahahaha!

I Kicked A Mouse

Yepp. The awesomeness of that post title? Pure fact.

Remember Drizzle? You may remember my furry little house mouse from: Magical Mouse Fairy, one line in Fruity Whirls, and his namesake posts Super Drizzle and Super Drizzle Returns.

He met with his end when faced with a rat trap (much bigger than a mouse trap) which attempted to sever a limb, and then he dragged himself back into his mouse hole.

We haven't seen whisker or tail of him since. That was months ago.

A week ago we met our newest addition: Zipper!

Now, I'm no expert on mice, but I'm fairly confident that this is not Drizzle, they look similar, but I see differences. Also, Zipper is much faster than Drizzle was, and he is significantly less cocky.

What I like to think happened was that Drizzle dragged his mangled body home, and his wife and children nursed him back to health. His disability prevents him from leaving the home to forage for food, so he trained his children (specifically Zipper) in the way of the ninja, so that with the speed and stealth of a ninja he will be able to provide food for the whole family.

"You are learning well, Grasshopper."



Last night there was a massive thunderstorm. After I sat at the window in the dark watching the thunder, lightning, and pouring rain for a while; I decided to use the washroom and crawl into bed. I left the light out and relied on my night vision and knowledge of toilet location for my pre-bed-pee. I took two steps inside the washroom and kicked something small and soft.

"WTF?!? Was that a mouse?!" I thought, and hastily turned on the light. My inspection of the bathmat showed Splat's hairbrush as the only item on the ground. Sitting on the toilet I thought to myself how odd it was that the hairbrush felt so soft and full of innards when I kicked it, when lo and behold Zipper raced across the room at speeds unimaginable, came within 12 inches of my feet, zipped under the cabinet, behind the sink, and (I'm assuming) entered the area behind the vent to return to his house.

"JESUS HOLY F%*&ING KRIES ZIPPER!!!" I yelled, "You scared the ever-loving sh#% out of me!! Argh!"

Then I tried to calm down enough to sleep, and managed to hear him 'talking' to another mouse.


O_o


"And I was cleaning myself and this crazy b#$%^ walked right in and KICKED ME! Can you believe that?"

I Hope Mine's A Football

Pop Tarts are awesome.

They were a kind of forbidden fruit when I was a child, my parents would never 'buy that crap' which means that I am forced to buy them WHENEVER they're on sale now and devour them with the freedom that being an adult brings.

Don't get me wrong...I wouldn't feed that crap to my kids.




Remember when I posted about how crappy this apartment is?

So Landlord has decided that all of the toilet problems in the pit-hole of an apartment are caused by my use of tampons. After throwing a temper tantrum and cursing, angry texting me, arguing with me in my own home, and giving me a pleasant ultimatum; it has been determined that I have temporarily switched to pads.

Oh, and then I determined that I'm moving out.

Image from here.

Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!


The best part of this decision to move is that I already have another place to go.

With everything all lined up, and a lease that is eagerly awaiting my signature, we have given notice to LaLandlordPoopyHeadFace and I have already packed over ten boxes.

I excite easily.


My new house is going to have awesome amounts of epicness and happiness and I am so super excited it's ridiculous.


Top Five Best Things About My New House

1. It is not in the Ghetto

2. It has a backyard! Eeeeeeeee!

3. The girls are in a bedroom that has it's own door and is not in my room!

4. It comes with an oven.

5. There's a laundry room and a line for drying clothes outside in the summer.



So, I am going to be busy. I'm quite sure that you will all continue to exist without me, but I thought it would be polite to let you know.

Happiness!

Ghett-iquette

Welcome to the Ghetto!

To help you enjoy your visit with us, we have a quick information package for you to look at. Just some simple tips and rules that will help you enjoy your visit in a safe and convenient manner.


First of all, don't get mugged.

There are only two parking spots for visitors, and unfortunately one of them is full of the car that holds down the driveway. If you are first to arrive, please park immediately beside this blue car, on the same angle. You may nose in or back in, it is up to you. If you are second, third, etc. to arrive; then you must park on the street somewhere. We, at the Ghetto, are aware that the street signs say 'No Parking', but there are no alternatives I can offer you. Luckily, the neighbours seem pretty understanding about the whole situation. If possible, travel in pairs or groups.

If you make it through step one safely: then Welcome! You are now safe inside the walls. You may sit anywhere that you'd like to. Keep in mind, seating is limited. We use to have two couches here in the Ghetto, technically we still do, but unless you'd like to sit in the sweltering fog that is the loft-in-summer, there is only one couch. We can also provide five dining room chairs (from two different sets) and the cushioned top of the toybox (space may be shared with a buttload of stuffed animals).

You are now on child entertainment duties. Sure, they're not your kids, but you're a novelty to them. We can provide a translator for "Toddler-Gibberish", but the translator is not responsible for any actions caused by or to the children.


O_o


Please help yourself to a beverage. We offer: water, coffee, water, tea, milk, and water! Hot drinks will be served in one of our variety of mugs...let's call them 'an exotic collection' from 'various locations'.

Once you have succeeded in filling your bladder, make your way to our washroom. The facility is located just past the mountain of outdoor equiptment, shoe pile, and toys. There are two light switches but only one operates the light. Don't be concerned though, the other one doesn't do anything at all so there is no penalty for choosing wrong! In fact, many of our guests choose to flip both switches at the same time to ensure lighting for their waste management.

Should the toilet paper roll empty, please help yourself to one of the other rolls located in a pillar directly beside the toilet. In the event that all six of the provided toilet paper rolls should be used, the remainder of the residence's supply can be found in the cupboard - still within reach of a seated person.

Once you have finished managing your waste, please press and hold the lever to ensure maximum flushage. Be warned, this still may produce a slow pitiful fill that will end too soon and leave you staring at a larger bowl of your waste. Attempt to flush again. If, after two flushes your waste still has not vacated the bowl, it is now socially acceptable to leave it. Most times the toilet will fix itself.

Please be aware that there is no longer a mat surrounding the toilet. Due to a new 'addition' to our washroom facility, the toilet leaks water from the base upon flushing. The problem is most prominent along the sink side of the toilet, but please be aware of your foot placement upon flushing the toilet. The staff at the Ghetto will clean up the water at the end of every day - like normal - so please, don't worry about cleaning it.

That awful kybo smell is from the diapers in the garbage.

Lastly, The Ghetto is now a temporary residence to a billion or so ants. We vacuum the facility 4-7 times a day, and still they return to scamper the floors. To date, there have been no reports of bites, although The Ghetto can make no guarantees. Feel free to mash, squish, or otherwise cause demise to any ants that you see. Vacuuming may occur during your stay.


We appreciate your patronage, enjoy your visit in The Ghetto.

-dysfunction

Morning Rage

I have written in the past about my burning rage for mornings.

Of the bear that awakens within me when I am torn from my warm sheets, soft pillows, and drool spot on my bed.

How then, an epic battle must ensue as the real me must fight the bear to win back control of my body.

Usually coffee helps.



I think the bear had a head start this morning.

Picture from here.

Isn't this picture epic?! I Googled 'woman wrestling bear' and got this picture, which is much more appropriate. Now my morning is getting better.

I was woken up this morning over an hour early by Shake'n'Bake beginning to cry in her bed. Since our rooms are seperated only by a curtain, I called out: "What's wrong?" from the warmth of my bed.

"I want you to tuck my feet in and give me a kiss!" she cried.

"No," I replied, "I only tuck you in at bed time."

Then she lost it. Screaming Crying and kicking the bed, I tried to use my calm voice and tell her to take a breath or say the alphabet. No use. She screamed louder and kicked harder and then the bear sat on the happy mom I want to be.

When her fit was... 'resolved'... we couldn't go back to bed because her screaming had woken Splat up, and she wanted to be fed. I tried to lie in bed and feed her, in hopes that she would remain drowsy and we could all go back to sleep after.

Nope.

She was wide awake then too, babbling about the various parts of the room and laughing at the desperation on my face. "Happy Mom" then tried to get the day going in an attempt to forget the heinous crimes of the morning, so I announced that it was wake up time and that we were all supposed to get dressed.


I found a dead housefly in my jeans.

Splat is almost out of pants, and we have company today.

Shake'n'Bake has decided that she wants to be a baby again (or something, this is just an assumption) and has decided that she can no longer get dressed on her own. She cried when I said I wouldn't help her put her socks on.

Splat kicked me in the vagina when I was putting her shirt on.

Then she cried because I said 'ow' and told her 'gentle'.

Shake'n'Bake exploded into tears because she has forgotten how to operate shirts over the past two weeks, and can no longer get them over her head.

Then they touched my excema medicine (after I had an itch attack last night that was so bad I was crying).

Splat cried for no reason. A lot.

Shake'n'Bake was impatient and whiny for her breakfast.

Splat cried when I did her hair. And then again when I finished doing her hair.

And again when I was getting her water.

Oh, and I have a buttload of ants that have decided to make my house their house.

And then my internet didn't want to work again this morning...because it does that sometimes.


O_o


Yeah, so that's my morning thus far.

F. 'Happy Mom', I'm going to go have a coffee now.

The Furniture Obituaries

You may remember my couch.

It is the infamous piece of furniture that Shake'n'Bake spilled milk on, and then attempted to clean 'all my byself'. You can find the full story here: The Victims of Fussy Hour.

I REALLY REALLY tried to find a picture of the couch that included the stain from the story, but unfortunately (or an extreme coincidence...) every photo of the couch has a person or object conveniently in front of the stain.

My subconcious for couch photography is the bomb.


So here is a picture of the couch:

Hey look! Easter eggs! This picture must be from Christmas or something.


O_o


I've had three cups of coffee...bear with me.


Note all of the visible rips and stains:

And this is the couch at its optimum appearance. The cushions are placed (and flipped) so as to minimize the visibility of rips and stains; I've even carefully folded a piece of couch fabric over itself  to hide a rip. Underneath the cushions are more stains and rips, and even an exposed spring.


O_o


It was time for the couch to go.

White Sectional Couch

Unknown - May 2011

'It was a good couch... well as good as free can be. It smelled funny, had no back cushioning, and was mildly itchy. White Sectional Couch is survived by a loving spouse, White Sectional Loveseat, and four Small Cushions.'

After joking with everyone who ever stepped foot in my apartment, and hoping for the funds for a new couch, or for a gently used one to fall in my lap... it happened!

As an Easter present from my parents (I still get Easter presents from my parents?!?! I didn't know this!) they passed down a couch that has been gently loved. This lovely piece of furniture was passed down from my aunt, to my parents, to my dad's new house, and then to me. (With any luck my kids will get it.... hahahahahaha)

(Due to an animal dander allergy in the family) We tore the couch apart and cleaned the hell out of it. I took off every cushion cover, soaked them in the tub with buttloads of laundry detergent, and, using a mop handle, became a manual washing machine. We vacuumed, plucked, brushed, washed, and sprayed the couch with a deodorizer/antibacterial spray (for the dander).

Then I sewed the one rip shut.

Then I bought cushions.



May I present:

Beige Couch, The Great

Feel free to ignore the dirt all over the floor.


Welcome to the family! May you have many years ahead of you.

Special thanks to my parents...thanks!

Happy Freeze-ster!

Guess what the Easter Bunny brought me this year.

A broken heater!

Well, he would have, if the poor bugger hadn't frozen outside.



Picture from here.

 It was Wednesday I believe... when we first noticed it was starting to get chilly in here.

I naively chalked it up to a drop in the outside temperature. As if things could actually happen naturally around here.

Thursday was just plain cold. When it came time for bed I was shivering, and as such, I turned the thermostat all the way up.

I just wanted to hear the heater go on.

But it was too late.

She was dead.


o_o


We shivered all night. I double-blanketed the girls, checking in on them periodically, and first thing in the morning I contacted Landlord. He was over later that day (Friday...GOOD Friday) to let me know that although he knew what was wrong with the heater, all the stores were closed due to this blasted holiday.  Also, the piece he needed may have to be ordered.

So he brought us two space heaters.

This was a lovely gesture, and most of the time these two little buggers are adequate to heat the apartment....like noonish, when the outside temperature has risen....but I can not wait to have the heater working again.

If there's one thing that should rise from the dead today...blasphemic joke, I know. I apologize if it offends anyone.

Cold.



Happy Easter!

Rage-Splosion

I am becoming angrier and angrier.

Perhaps it is what my depression is turning into as the winter subsides and the warm weather is coming out...but it doesn't seem likely. Spring makes me calm.

Perhaps it is a hormone change from my birth control...but I've been on the same birth control for over five years now, and this has never happened before.

Perhaps it is due to lack of sleep. Splat has been waking up four or five times a night to feed again.


O_o


I've even been dreaming about waking up to feed her, and then actually waking up and having a moment of panick because she's not in bed with me.



No matter what the cause is, I am filled with rage. It's almost a constant state now.

I'm mad that I live in this dump, in the Ghetto. I'm mad that I don't have a yard to play in. I'm mad that I can't afford buttloads of food, and since I've been so exhausted - have put grocery shopping off (again) until tomorrow. I'm mad that I have nothing planned for dinner. I'm mad that I can't afford to put my car back on the road (and just now, I'm mad that I forgot to call my cousin back this weekend like I was supposed to. Crap). And I'm mad that my stupid ex is trying to get another reduction in child support.

I'm mad that I'm changing programs. I'm mad at the program and the field for sucking so much, and I'm mad that I didn't look farther into it, or consider the possibility of these risks earlier on. I'm mad that I have to apply to new schools, while hounding my old one for marks, and having to book assessments anyways because apparently nobody really cares what your marks are.

I'm mad that I haven't gotten around to doing the dishes yet today. I'm mad that we had salty Mr. Noodles for lunch because I haven't bought real groceries yet (see: tomorrow), and I'm mad that Shake'n'Bake loves them anyways. What happened to good eating habits?


I'm furious that the couch beetles are back.


Like: flaming-murderous-rampage, want-to-move-before-we-have-another-place-to-live furious.

It's only the 11th of April, and yet I have found and killed six already. SIX. Five of which were in the last three days.

It's f%&#ing ridiculous!!!

Stupid, nasty, little bastards. There were none for the entire winter. They sat outside in some soil, in a frozen hibernation-like state of cryogenesis, waiting for the spring to thaw the ground so that they could resume their attack on my life.

At their current rate of attack, I'm likely to see well into the hundreds for casualties this year. I just don't know if my stretched little mind can handle it.

ARGH!

F(ish)ridge

Ridiculous.

First, the tortellini was soft in the freezer.

Boyfriend and I berated ourselves for leaving the freezer door ajar. We promised to be more diligent, after all there was meat in the freezer and we didn't want it to spoil.

Next came the bread. Nearly defrosted when I pulled it out.

I turned up the cold on the dial for the freezer...perhaps the milk had knocked it down to warmer or something.

Then came the day when the ice was melted. All of the small meats were defrosted, any and everything bread based was thawed, it was awful. Even the inside walls of the freezer weren't cold.

We cooked all of the sausages that we had, ate them on thawed buns. Other meat was moved to the fridge for timely consumption, and the remaining breads, vegetables, and whole chicken were moved to the chest freezer upstairs.

I sent Landlord a message saying that the freezer was broken. He called me back and asked if we could make it to the weekend at which time he would replace the fridge. I naively said yes.

The next morning Boyfriend picked up a less-than-cold container of ham soup from the fridge and brought it with him for lunch. It didn't taste or smell right so he disposed of it.

The next morning we enjoyed bowls of cereal with sour milk.

The fridge had gone too.

Landlord came over (while we had company...sigh) with a 'new' fridge for us. Where he got this thing from is beyond me, my best guesses are: the side of the road, or an old sushi restaurant.

Inside the freezer there was black and grey mold, inside the fridge: half an eggshell pasted to an egg holder, and a variety of greenery crumbs.

The entire thing reeked of fish.

I busted out my new Lysol Multi-Spray-Cleaner-TakeITBEYOTCH! and spritzed every possible surface of the fridge. Boyfriend began scrubbing drawers and shelves in the sink.

It still smells. And it's awful. It makes everything it comes into contact with reek.

Now it smells like a giant fish was poisoned with Lysol, died, and then rotted in my fridge.


O_o


Yay....





P.S. Dear Shadow Lurkers,
It would be super awesome if you could follow me publicly. My fragile little ego would love some inflation... or even justification... a high five?
Thanks.

One Square At A Time

I can't wait to move out of the Cess-Pool-City.

I hate living here with nearly every fiber of my body. I live in a terrible neighbourhood in which my (lame) running joke with everyone who leaves my house is: "Don't get mugged on your way out."


O_o


Ha....ha......ha.

I'm moving before Shake'n'Bake goes to school because...well because I hate this area, and I don't want my precious little angel to learn the F-bomb at 4 years from a classmate. I also (on a lesser degree) don't want her to have to switch schools later on. This means that in the next year and a half I will be moving again, even though it is something I have expressed that I don't want to do. Some things are more important.

So I have been passively looking at houses and rentals in areas that I would be interested in living in/near for the next 15-20 years. It's a pretty big commitment.

The worst part is when I find something that is amazing. That's when the anxiety sets in. All sorts of doubts about leaving the familiar and taking a pretty big step forward. But I'm so darn impatient! I'm 200% ready to leave this rotting town; 200% ready to live in a long-term home; ready to pick the town; make the commitment; settle down and live. I want to get out now but I also don't want to rush into it and make a mistake.

*************************

The last course of my year one semester has demolished me. The worst part (thanks, universe) was the timing of it all. This Pathology course was the most exciting and interesting course of my entire first year! I finished the first half of the course just soaring, wrote my midterm (aced it!) and then we had our "March Break". The entire "March Break" concept is more than stupid for my program because year one ends on April 5th. We have our "March Break" and then return to 'class' for two weeks before year two begins on April 6th.

O_o

I'd rather work through the break and have the time off between years...

Anyways! I began my readings again towards the end of March Break to find out that the rest of the course is devoted to Skin Pathologies [pathology = disease state] which was neat for about two minutes, then the text started outlining the communicability of said diseases (some of which are debilitating and life changing) and how a lot of the time they present little to no symptoms. I would have no idea if I was contracting these diseases, and even more deadly, if I was BRINGING THEM HOME TO MY FAMILY, until it was too late. Diseases like Herpes, which not only does not have a cure, it attacks the immune system and increases the chances of contracting HIV/AIDS.

O_O

There was even a special subtype of Herpes that mainly affected my potential profession.

Well, after I calmed my panic attack and dried my tears I came to a horrific and depressing conclusion:

There was no way I could finish my schooling for this profession.

This sucks the biggest, hairiest sack of balls I have ever seen. Flashing before my eyes was every conversation I had ever had in which I expressed my pride at waiting to go to College, because then I had decided what I wanted to do and I wouldn't drop out halfway through. I thought of my Dad. The money I had borrowed from him for this year of school. How, the last time I had seen him, I had asked for the next chunk of tuition since the payment was coming up. All of the biology books I had purchased, that had only been used once (one of them has never been used). The year I invested into this, and the equiptment that I bought. Images of my future career, perhaps even small business, flashed...then dissolved...and I felt like an ass.

Boyfriend was amazing and helped talk me through it, after all, it was better for me to realize these truths late into first year, than after fourth; and I wouldn't have been able to attend school in person anyways this year due to the birth of Splat. We talked about other school paths for me and I've made a new decision. I will actually graduate a year earlier than before since I can do it all full time now!



Of course, this all leads to a new application process, transcript getting, daycare, transportation, a new OSAP application, and a bigger head ache for now.

I had just finished paying for all the parts of my previous OSAP application...I'm hoping that it can carry foward to my new one... if not the application itself, then perhaps all of the supporting documents.

My current college is out-of-province, so the transcript needs to be snail-mailed from them - instead of emailed/faxed like usual.... so now I'm relying on a less-than-reliable-institute for timeliness for my current applications. Argh.

********************

I was sitting on the couch last night, crocheting Splat's blanket (it's a Christmas gift, Shake'n'Bake recieved hers for the Christmas that just passed). I've been close to being finished for a while...the blanket is comprised of over 100 individual squares that are then stitched together, and I've been contemplating starting to stitch together the ones that I already have finished. I'm so excited to get the blanket done, but I knew that at some point I would run out of squares for the last colour if I didn't finish them first. It was a bummer. And then it hit me.

One square at a time.

I need to take joy in the little successes along the way to the bigger one.

One square at a time.

If I keep putting in the work, then I will find the perfect house instead of rushing into it.

One square at a time.

I've requested that my transcript be sent as soon as I complete my final exam, they've agreed.

One square at a time.

And the blanket/house/career will be built on a strong foundation and finished in a complete and competent way.

I finished all of the squares late last night... guess who's started to stitch the blanket together!

Wish me luck.

Inappropriate Soliciting

so·lic·it

səˈlɪsɪt[suh-lis-it]

–verb (used with object)

1. to seek for (something) by entreaty, earnest or respectful request, formal application, etc.: He solicited aid from the minister.

2. to entreat or petition (someone or some agency): to solicit the committee for funds.

3. to seek to influence or incite to action, especially unlawful or wrong action.

4. to offer to have sex with in exchange for money.

–verb (used without object)

5. to make a petition or request, as for something desired.

6. to solicit orders or trade, as for a business: No soliciting allowed in this building.

7. to offer to have sex with someone in exchange for money.

I live in the Ghetto.

G.H.E.T.T.O.

The implication being that my neighbours and I have little to no money.

The Jehovah's Witnesses made sense.

They've come by twice now, asking about my religious groundings; faith in God; reliance upon money for happiness - and each time I have been polite, taken their pamphlets, and gone back inside as quickly as humanly possible.

Yesterday a young man knocked on my door. When I opened the door he tried to come in.

O_o

I blocked the entrance with my body and the door, and tried to make it as obvious as possible that he was not allowed to enter.

Then he began soliciting.

This young man has had a very unfortunate (and very famous) childhood, and he is trying to raise money for an organization that he believes helped him through it.

Fine.

I don't mind that so much, but when he tries repeatedly to come in to my house uninvited, summarizes his entire life story, makes reference to 'falling off the wagon' recently, and then explains how his brother has been stabbed recently which is leading him to wanting to have the perpetrator 'taken care of' but unfortunately he has to leave this up to the law...

Well it's frightening.

He was pretty insistent about a donation too, so I gave him one.

Oh, I can imagine the uproar now. Why? Why would I give him the donation? Then he gets what he wanted and he may come back.

Why? Because it made him leave.

He was truly planning on not leaving without it.

And if I didn't donate, well, my paranoia says he knows where I live.... and maybe I would get 'taken care of'.

Ten dollars seemed a lot safer of an option.

My plan is to not open the door anymore.

Ever.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have been spending a lot of time thinking about my upcoming 100th post. The voices in my head have made this into a big deal, and I have been working on a post 'A Taste of Delusion' that I was planning on using for the big one-double-zero that talks about my mother.

Now, I'm not so sure. Am I making too big of a deal about this? Should I post a small "Congratulations To Me" post instead? Or something humorous instead of the current darker one? Argh!

The Draft....And Other Loose Ends

Happy Wednesday!

I've been napping sporadically and falling asleep randomly over the last couple of days. Splat has been waking up more and more frequently over the last couple of nights (the record being held Monday night when she woke up on 14 seperate occasions throughout the night to be fed) and I am running out of energy.

Yay Motherhood!


O_o



I wrote a post a while back...a loooooooong while back..... that mentioned what a crummy door I had on my apartment - THIS POST! Luckily, Landlord decided to replace the front door for us and now we have a nice, new, non-screwdrivered door to keep us safe in the Ghetto.

Unfortunately, the project was...paused...before there was any insulation or trim put on the new door. This, combined with the piece of garbage screen door, makes for a very drafty living room.

The draft is strong enough to have spun the snowflake decorations that Shake'n'Bake and I had made for Christmas.

I cannot come up with a good enough preamble for this picture. Just look.

And it gets worse. So much worse.

We've opened the door some days to find a mound of snow that has been blown in and piled up into a dense triangle of winter-y goodness.


o_o


There isn't anything I can do really. We dress warmly inside, wearing slippers and housecoats. I've cranked the heater up to 24 (Celcius) which is warmer than I would like, but honestly, I have two small children.

Hopefully Landlord will fix this, maybe in the spring.




In other updating news:


I've had to add a quick edit to this post because I found out (super awkwardly and such) that the necklace mentioned is not from Europe and I don't want to spread false information.

AND

President's Choice Mastercard mailed me my refund (in relation to this post) and I haven't recieved another statement from them recently. I'm a whole $3.64 richer!

Dream House

Some people want big.

Massive mansions with endless corridors, tapestries, winding staircases and crystal chandeliers.

Not me.

Being poor for so long has allowed me to truly appreciate the smaller things in life.

I've never had aspirations for a big house. I don't see the point in having something that you need to fill, rooms that never get used, and all that extra square footage to clean.


O_o


Yuck, cleaning.


Dream with me for a minute...


It's okay to be jealous of my awesome artistry.
Laughter is also acceptable.



Welcome to my house! As you can see from the outside, my house is not too big, and not too small. It fits my family just fine. There's a vegetable garden out back, and I have a fenced in backyard!!!

A fenced in backyard allows my children to play safely without the fear of wandering away, or getting hit by a car. A fenced in backyard means that we can have a dog, or maybe two! Privacy, safety, this fence makes me very happy.




Come on inside! Please take off your shoes, I'll hang up your coat in this closet. Then I'll close the closet door and hide from sight all of our outerwear. Doesn't my front hall look uncluttered? The secret is the closet door. Without it, all of the coats look jumbled and messy.




Here, come in to my kitchen. Did you notice, it's a seperate room from the living room? And look, here is my oven. I can bake things evenly in my oven, it also allows for me to cook things in a reasonable amount of time! I have lots of cupboards too. They allow me to store all of my food and cookware without having to use the top of the refridgerator. And if you look inside them, you'll see everything matches. No more bits and pieces of tupperware, scrounged from various apartments. I've purchased sets.

Sets.





Over here is my dining room. The fact that this room exists seperate from the kitchen is super exciting in itself, but look! There's a table in here, and it has matching chairs. Can you believe that?! None of them have collapsed, and there are enough for my entire family AND GUESTS!





Now we're in my living room. I have a couch set. A whole set! A three seater, a loveseat, and an armchair! And none of them have stains or rips. There's a coffee table too, it matches the end tables.





We all have our own bedrooms. There is no sharing, no disturbing, it's fantastic! I've painted the rooms whichever colours I desired, because it's my house and I can.





And look here. There's a playroom. It's filled with all of the kids' toys which means there are no toys around the rest of the house. The room is colourful, and childproof, and my children love to play in there.





I have bathroomS. More than one! And they each have a toilet that flushes properly, sinks that drain normally, and there is at least one that has a bath/shower in which the head has great pressure and a more than adequate supply of hot water.





Oh ho! Here is one of my favourite rooms: the laundry room. No more trips to the Ghettomat. No more piles of dirty laundry. I don't need a ride there, I don't need to presoak clothes that would otherwise stain waiting for laundry day. I can wash anything and everything that I need, when I need it.

This room also houses all my cleaning supplies, no longer will they be stored in a corner upstairs or on top of the medicine cabinet. No more vacuums in the coat closet, or extra paper towels stored on top of the fridge.




Did I mention that my house has no bugs?




Yes, my dream house is a magical place where all of my little desires can come true.


I truly believe I will own this house one day, after I pay off my thousands of dollars of consumer debt and finish my schooling. And when that day happens, you can believe that I won't be left wanting. I will wake up every morning in my warm and comfortable bed and be grateful for every little thing that I have.